


My Golden Boy

by MiraclesAndObstacles



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Boxer!Adam, M/M, Newsreporter!Jordan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 09:52:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9716120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraclesAndObstacles/pseuds/MiraclesAndObstacles
Summary: (Adam's sweeter than he looks, Jordan is a little bit judgmental and miscommunication is a bitch.)Jordan needs to write an article about Adam. Things turn out differently than he'd expected.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, I am on holidays right now, and that's why I'm back with another new story!
> 
> I feel like it's a bit different from what and how I usually write, so please let me know what you think about this in the comments below.
> 
> Have a wonderful day x

My Golden Boy

 

“Mr. Henderson, pay attention.” The journalism teacher, Mr. Klopp, snaps as he pulls Jordan out of his thoughts and back to reality.

 

“Sorry.” He mumbles, eyes blinking and refocusing on the words that he was currently writing on the board as he spoke.

 

“As you all know,” he says as he continues to write, “the boxing team here is one of the best teams in the country.” The class groans, all of them rolling their eyes. Most of the people in this class had been here since year 10, and they were all in year 13 now. The class was composed of people studying to be journalists like Jordan himself and, if he was being honest, they were considered the losers of the school and, like every cliché, they didn’t like the jocks. “Now, this’ll be a good opportunity for you to get some more experience with interviewing.”

 

“We have to interview them?”, someone calls out with a groan.

 

“Ms. Jones, settle down, please.” Mr. Klopp says, finishing up what he was writing on the black board. “Now, I’ve already paired you up with people on the team. You’ll be required to do a short interview with them, talking about their wins and such, building up a profile for them.” Another loud groan echoes around the class and Jordan can’t help but add into it softly. “This is non-negotiable and no, I will not change your partners either,” he continues before reading off of a list. “… And, lastly, Henderson you’ll be interviewing Adam Lallana, the captain of the boxing team.”

 

A couple people laugh, patting him on the back and telling him “Rough luck mate.”

 

As they do so and Jordan just rolls his eyes. It would only be his luck he would have to interview the asshole jock who could probably kill Jordan with one punch.

 

Just his luck.

 

The class carried on for a little longer before the bell rings and everyone’s packing up their stuff and chatting away about the up coming weekend and their plans for it as Jordan walks to the front of the class to try and talk to Mr. Klopp about this because there was no way he was going to interview Lallana without trying to get out of it first, even if this was his favourite class.

 

“Uh, Mr. Klopp…” Jordan says, flashing him a quick smile. “I was wondering if I could talk to you about this project…”

 

“Just the man I wanted to se,” he says. “What did you want to talk about? If it’s about switching people or getting out of this project, you know I can’t do that.”

 

Jordan sighs. “You’re sure?”

 

He nods. “Anyways, I specially picked you for the captain. See, I wanted you to do a more in depth interview with Adam.”

 

Jordan’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

 

He shakes his head. “I’m not, Jordan,” he sighs. “Look, you’re one of the best journalists I’ve had the pleasure of teaching here and this will be a good challenge for you.”

 

Jordan nods. “I understand.”

 

Mr. Klopp smiles at him. “Very good. Now, you have basically full range on this project but I’d like to see it a couple days before we put it into the news paper so I know it’s appropriate.” He looks over at his watch. “If you hurry now, you can probably catch him before practice starts,” he winks.

 

Jordan nods again. “Alright… Thank you Mr. Klopp.”

 

He waves him off as he walks out of the classroom, running into his best mate Philippe as he does so.

 

Philippe and Jordan had met in their year 10, since Philippe was in the photograph class that had gotten paired up with Jordan’s class to do a project for the newspaper.

 

“What took you so long?” Philippe asks as they walk to their lockers.

 

“Mr. Klopp was talking to me about this new project.” Jordan sighs as he unlocks his locker. “I have to interview Lallana.”

 

Philippe perks up immediately. “Can I come with you to take photos?”

 

Jordan looks over at him with a look. “You just want to stare at Can, don’t you?”

 

He shrugs. “He’s-”

 

Jordan holds up a hand. “I don’t need another explanation about him. You can come.” He grabs a pad of paper and a pencil before shutting his locker. “I could use the moral support anyways.”

 

Philippe laughs, throwing an arm around him. “We both know you’ve got the hots for Adam anyways.”

 

Jordan rolls his eyes. “I think he’s fit, don’t have ‘the hots’ for him.” He crinkles his nose at Philippe’s choice of words. “What are you, American?”

 

Philippe grins at him as they duck into the gym that has the big boxing ring in it. It’s already beginning to fill with people who are on the team, all of them Jordan vaguely recognises but no sight of Lallana.

 

“Lost?” A voice says, coming up behind them.

 

“Emre.” Philippe says, smiling at him.

 

“Philippe.” Emre says in a surprised voice. “What brings you two to the gym?”

 

Philippe shrugs, fiddling with the strap of his camera like he does when he’s nervous. “Jordan here’s got a project to interview Adam.”

 

Emre nods. “I remember coach mentioning that. I can go and get him if you guys wanna wait here?”

 

Jordan shrugs, shoving his pencil behind his ear like he doesn’t care. He doesn’t really, honestly, he just wants to go home and forget about this stupid project and stupid jocks.

 

“Riiight,” Emre says, eyeing him before jogging off and into the guys changing room.

 

“Can’t we leave?” Jordan asks Philippe in a quiet voice as he eyes the other people out here who have already noticed them.

 

“Jordan.” Philippe scolds. “Don’t be rude. And, anyways, this is a project. You have to do it anyways.”

 

Jordan huffs out an annoyed sound, crossing his arms.

 

He’s saved from having to reply from Philippe as bloody Adam Lallana bounces up in front of him in a pair of thin workout shorts and a bright smile.

 

“Uh, hey Philippe.” He says, waving at him before smiling shyly at Jordan. “Hi Jordan.”

 

Jordan grabs the pencil from behind his ear, flipping out his note pad. “Hi,” he replies in a flat voice. “Look, I have to interview you for my final project.”

 

Adam nods. “Yeah, coach mentioned that.”

 

“Great.” Jordan mutters sarcastically before putting on his fake journalism smile and looking up. “How’d you get into boxing?”

 

“Uh, I used to live in a couple towns over and I went to primary and the beginning of secondary school there while I had some health problems and I used to get bullied rather bad for being a little skinny thing and so I took up boxing as a way to protect myself.” Adam says with a small shrug.

 

Jordan looks up at him from his notes with a raised eyebrow. “You got bullied?” he asks, surprise evident in his voice.

 

Adam nods, scratching the back of his neck. “I wasn’t exactly the toughest guy around then.”

 

Jordan writes a couple more notes down on his notebook and just before he’s about to ask Adam another basic question, someone interrupts him.

 

“Oi, Lallana, stop flirting with Henderson over there and start stretching!” Emre calls across the gym, causing a bunch of the other lads to laugh as Adam’s face turns bright red with embarrassment.

 

“They… Sorry,” he stutters out, biting his lip.

 

Jordan rolls his eyes. Of course they were all assholes about Jordan being one of the few out people at the school.

 

“Whatever,” he mutters, shutting his notebook and sticking his pencil behind his ear. “We can continue this later.”

 

Adam hesitates for a second.

 

“Here, give me your pencil and notebook, I’ll give you my number.” Jordan’s eyebrows rise again, but he flips open to a blank page in his notebook and offers it and his pencil for Adam to jot down his number. “Text me sometime,” he smiles before jogging over to Emre and the rest of his friends to begin warming up.

 

Philippe takes a couple shots of the gym and Adam before he lets Jordan leave with him.

As they leave though, Jordan glances over in Adam’s direction to find him already looking at him. Adam gives him a small smile and a wave but Jordan just turns around, leaving the gym with Philippe.

 

______________________________

 

Later that night, when Jordan’s alone in his room working on the questions to ask Adam later, he looks out over at the ripped out piece of paper with Adam’s number on it.

 

“I’m an idiot,” Jordan mutters.

 

“I don’t need to text him I don’t even know why he gave me his number, I can just go back to the gym later,” he reasons with himself, reaching over for the paper to rip it before pausing.

 

“It’d be rude not to text him,” he puts it back down.

 

“Well it’s not like he’s waiting for me to text him,” he picks back up.

 

“Philippe would kill me if I destroyed his only link to freaking Can,” Jordan grumbles before grabbing his phone and typing out a text to Adam.

 

 _‘Its Jordan’_ he sends it without thinking about it and locks his phone, throwing it onto his bed with a loud groan.

 

“I do not like him.”

 

Which is why his heart didn’t jump in his chest when his phone lights up, signalling a text.

 

(It so did.)

 

He dives over to his bed, grabbing the phone before pausing with it in his hands.

 

“I don’t care what he has to say,” he says to himself, calmly unlocking the phone and reading Adam’s text.

 

_‘Hiiiiii! its Adam incas u forgot lol’_

 

There’s a second text right under it.

 

_‘Which u woldnt hav bc u txted me’_

 

Because of course the guy can’t text like a normal human being.

 

God.

 

Jordan rolls his eyes, grabbing his phone again before pausing. He didn’t want Adam to think he had been waiting for his text.

 

Because he hadn’t.

 

Because Jordan Brian Henderson did not like Adam David Lallana.

 

No matter what Philippe or anyone else thought.

 

 _‘Right well, when are you free?’_ Jordan replies back, pausing after he’s done typing it out and then sending it. He honestly expects Adam’s text back right away (that’s what had happened the first time) so he’s kinda disappointed when Adam doesn’t text back right away.

 

Which doesn’t make sense because he really, really doesn’t like Adam.

 

 _‘Soryy 4 the lat replyy, my sistr neded helpp :p’_ Adam sends back and Jordan wonders how old his sisters are and- He doesn’t care because he doesn’t like Adam.

_‘Im fre ovr the w/e wat abot u???’_

 

_‘Weekend’s good for me. Your place or mine?’_

 

_‘Ur placee sonds goood: )’_

 

 _‘I’ll text you the address on Friday,’_ Jordan replies before locking his phone and firmly ignoring the sound of an incoming message.

 

He wanted to start working on the beginning of the article he had to write about Adam Lallana.

 

______________________________

 

Adam Lallana is a name very familiar in these halls.

Most students call him a hero, others a friend (and maybe some just ‘some guy who plays a sport’) but who actually knows Adam Lallana?

Sure, his friends and family know Adam well, of course they would. But to the rest of us lowly commoners, we don’t know much about Mr. Popular Jock man, Adam Lallana.

I’m here to shine a little light on the subject of this golden boy’s deep dark little secrets.

 

______________________________

 

“Sooo…” Philippe says leaning against the locker next to Jordan’s the next morning at school. “Did you talk to him?”

 

“Him who?” Jordan asks, playing stupid.

 

He knew exactly who Philippe was asking about but he wasn’t going to give Philippe that satisfaction.

 

“Him Adam, that’s who,” he says with a cheeky grin. “So did you?”

 

Jordan rolls his eyes as he grabs his books and shuts his locker. Him and Philippe begin walking to their share homeroom together as he answers the question.

 

“I texted him.”

 

Philippe stares at him, obviously wanting more. “And…?”

 

Jordan rolls his eyes again. “He’s coming over this weekend so I can interview him.”

 

Philippe squeals of all things as they enter the classroom, earning the duo a few odd looks. “So it’s a date.”

 

 

Jordan glares at them as they slide into their seats, looking around briefly to make sure no one was paying attention to them anymore. “It’s not a date,” he hisses in a low voice, trying to ignore the blush that is trying to force it’s way onto his cheeks.

 

Philippe just grins at him as Adam and Emre walk in, Emre effectively stealing his attention. The surprising part though, is the fact that the two jocks slide into the free seats behind them.

 

Emre leans forward immediately, distracting Philippe as Adam smiles shyly at Jordan.

 

“Hi,” he says.

 

Jordan gives him a quick, tight smile before turning around to face the front as the teacher begins to do roll call when a note lands on his desk.

 

 _‘Don’t be an asshole to him’_ it reads in an unfamiliar writing.

 

Confused, Jordan looks around trying to figure out who sent him the letter when Emre catches his eye and glares slightly.

Jordan glares back.

 

 _‘Says the asshole jock’_ he throws back, crossing his arms and trying to pay attention. It doesn’t last long when a scrunched up ball hits his desk.

 

 _‘Does he really seem like an asshole to you?’_ it says, and Jordan can’t help but look over at Adam, who’s currently taking notes from the board.

He catches Jordan looking at him, and sends him an honest to god 1000-megawatt grin. Jordan just gives him a small smile back before turning around.

 

 _‘No but I was taught not to believe all that you hear’_ he throws back.

 

Emre rolls his eyes as soon as he’s done reading the note. He gives Jordan the middle finger salute before throwing the note back.

 

_‘Says the judgemental prick’_

 

Jordan blinks at the note, surprised at the words. He’d never been called…judgemental before and he wasn’t.

How was he being judgemental?

He leans over to Philippe.

 

“Am I judgemental?” he whispers.

 

Philippe gives him a small, guilty smile. “Yeah… Kinda…”

 

Jordan pulls back a bit. “But…”

 

“You thought I was a smoking, attention whore hipster when we first met because I liked taking photos Jordan,” Philippe whispers with a knowing look.

 

“In my defence, you are a hipster,” he mumbles back before moving back so he was sitting properly in his chair, thoughts racing in his head.

 

He couldn’t be that judgemental…

Could he?

 

______________________________

 

The next time Jordan actually gets a chance to talk to Adam is in their second last period, one of the three they share. Today was the day that they were getting assigned to their new lab partners, and like every cliché romance high school movie, Jordan was paired up with- you guessed it- Adam.

 

“Hey,” Adam says with a smile.

 

Jordan doesn’t really say anything, too lost up in his own head as he pulls out his notebook and he bites his lip, thinking over the one thing that had been bugging him the entire bloody day.

 

The fact that actually a lot of people thought he, Jordan Henderson, was judgemental. He honestly couldn’t believe it.

 

He doesn’t really pay close attention in class, just mindlessly writing out the notes that are already on the board and occasionally doodling on the side of his paper as the teacher writes new notes on the board. After what feels like hours later, Adam pokes Jordan on the shoulder with his pencil.

 

“What?” Jordan snaps and automatically feels horrible about it. “Shit, sorry, I’m just…”

 

“Tense?” Adam suggests with a small laugh. “It’s fine. I just wanted to uh, tell you that we’re supposed to be following the instructions for the lab now.”

 

“Oh, right,” Jordan sighs, glancing back up at the board to quickly read over what they need. “I’ll go get the stuff.”

 

Adam nods as Jordan gets up, going quickly to the front to grab the stuff and bring it back.

 

“Are you any good at chemistry?” Adam asks curiously when he gets back.

 

Jordan shrugs. “I’m fine at it, I guess,” he mutters, glancing back up at the board and reorganising the stuff in the order that they’ll need it.

 

Adam nods, biting his lip as they begin to work in a neither tense nor comfortable silence. It takes a while, but finally Jordan’s add the last ingredient to their concoction and putting the corkscrew on the beaker.

 

“So…” Adam says awkwardly since now that they’re done, they’ve got a few minutes before class ends. “Do you wanna ask me some questions?”

 

Jordan raises an eyebrow at him.

 

“For your project,” he clarifies as he blushes.

 

“Oh, right,” Jordan huffs out as if he’s annoyed but he’s actually not. He grabs his bag, searching through it for his notebook. “How long have you been boxing?”

 

“Uh…” Adam says, scratching at his temple. “I started when I was… 9, I think. 9 or 8, I’m not really sure.”

 

Jordan nods, jotting down his answer. “Do you plan to go professional?”

 

Adam laughs. “I would love to,” he blushes, ducking his head. “Don’t think I’d make it, honestly.”

 

Jordan raises an eyebrow at him. “You’ve had an actual news paper do articles- as in plural- on you and you don’t think you’ll make it?”

 

Adam shrugs, looking slightly uncomfortable. “I mean…”

 

Jordan rolls his eyes. “Trust me Adam,” he mutters, “you’ll make it.”

 

Adam smiles at him. “You think that?”

 

“I’ve been to a few of the matches,” he shrugs. “You’re not bad, quite the opposite.”

 

“You’ve been to a match?” he asks back, brown puppy dog eyes wide.

 

Jordan rolls his eyes. “No need to sound so surprised Lallana, Philippe dragged me to them.”

 

Adam laughs. “I just figured you brooded in your room and hated everyone instead of going out and doing normal teenager things.”

 

“Brooded?” Jordan asks with a raised eyebrow. “Didn’t know you had such a large vocabulary,” he teases and actually finds himself enjoying the conversation.

 

“More than just a jock,” he says, pointing lightly at himself with a tiny grin. “Ask your next hard hitting question, Mr. Superstar journalist Henderson.”

 

Jordan laughs, but he can feel a blush coming up on his cheeks. “How long do you train?”

 

“During a week?” Adam asks for clarification and Jordan nods. “Hmm… Well, there’s the school practises that are 2 hours are every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, but on Tuesdays and Thursdays I still hit the gym for practice for about 3 hours, Saturdays I usually go for 4 hours and then I work there too so I don’t know if that counts, but my class is about 2 hours on Sundays. So that’s… roughly 18 hours a week I think?”

 

“Holy shit,” Jordan can’t help himself from saying.

 

He gets the evil eye from the teacher so he looks away quickly, a guilty look on his face while Adam looks at him with a grin.

 

“First off, shut up, second off, what the fuck,” he looks at Adam like he’s crazy because he kinda is. “I can barely get myself out of bed before 3 in the afternoon on the weekends how the hell do you work out?”

 

Adam laughs again with a small shrug as the bell rings. He grabs his stuff as Jordan does the same.

 

“Just an old habit I guess.”

He pauses, looking like he wants to say something else but isn’t sure if he’s allowed to.

“Uh… Feel free to text me tonight.”

 

He rushes out quickly before ducking into the crowd to head to his last class, leaving Jordan highly confused before he remembers he has to get to his journalism class on the opposite side of the school.

 

______________________________

 

Jordan’s working on an English assignment later that night when his phone begins to ring. He quickly grabs it, hoping that it’s Adam but the caller ID tells him it’s Philippe.

 

“What’d you need?” he asks instead of saying hello.

 

“Hi Philippe, how are you?” Philippe says, pretending to be him. “I’m doing fine, thanks for asking Jordan.”

 

Jordan rolls his eyes. “And yet my actual question still stands.”

 

“Rude,” Philippe mutters. “Anyways, what’re you doing this weekend?”

 

“Other than my interview thing with Adam?” Jordan clarifies before shrugging even if he knows Philippe won’t see it. “Don’t know, nothing really.”

 

“Great because guess who just scored us an invite to a sick party,” Philippe says in a singsong voice.

 

“James?” Jordan grins.

 

James was the third part to their little trio, but he didn’t go to their school. His parents were insanely rich (or something like that), so he went to a private school on the upscale side of their town. He was always inviting them to rich kid parties which were definitely better than the shit things that happened around on their side of town.

 

“Who else?” Philippe laughs. “It’s Saturday night, you up for it?”

 

Jordan nods. “Fuck yeah.” He was in desperate need for a good lay that would assure him that he felt nothing for Adam and it was just a lack of sex in his system.

 

Philippe snorts. “When aren’t you down for a party?”

 

“Whatever,” Jordan laughs. “I gotta go, I’m supposed to be babysitting tonight and working on homework.”

 

“Have fun with that,” Philippe laughs, hanging up on him after saying goodbye.

 

Jordan rolls his eyes, grabbing his phone and going to check on his little sister to make sure that she hadn’t accidentally started a fire or anything. He fiddles with his phone nervously as he walks through the house, debating whether or not to text Adam. Maybe he should call him or something like that…

 

“What’s got you thinking so hard?” A voice calls as he walks past Jody’s room.

 

“Nothing,” Jordan deflects automatically and she grins at him.

 

“Someone’s lying.” She says in a singsong voice before she notices the phone in his hand. “A boy?”

 

Jordan glares at her. “It’s no one.”

 

“Again with the lying.”

 

“It’s none of your business,” he says, crossing his arms defensively.

 

She rolls her eyes. “Well obviously if you’re fiddling with your phone, you’re waiting for him to call right?”

 

Jordan shakes his head. “I have his number.”

 

“Then why the hell aren’t you texting him?” she asks.

 

“Because I don’t want to,” Jordan says childishly. “I don’t even like him that way.”

 

“What’s his name?” Jody asks.

 

“Adam why are you-” he starts to say, but she grabs the phone out of his hands, opening it and quickly texting someone before Jordan can get it back.

 

“You’re welcome,” she says smugly before Jordan leaves, highly annoyed with her.

 

He opens up his phone, checking what she had sent him.

 

 _‘Heyyy Adam !’_ was what she had sent.

 

“You could’ve at least made it look like me!” he yells, going back into his room as he texts Adam.

 

_‘Sorry my sister took my phone.’_

 

 _‘Lol its fine my sistr ad cousin des that 2 somtims. I thnk she thnks I hav interstng ppl on my phne. Really just u ad my temates’_ Adam replies 2 seconds later.

 

 _‘I thought mr popular would have more phone numbers. No girlfriends?’_ he teases.

 

_‘Nah ad no bfs ethr, mch 2 there disapointment’_

 

Ok, uh, what.

 

Adam’s into guys because that uh.

What.

 

Jordan’s honestly so confused because he honestly thought Adam was as straight as a pole but apparently not.

 

Unless it was like a curved pole or something.

 

 _‘Uh this might be personal but you’re not straight?’_ Jordan can’t help but text and he bites his lip when Adam doesn’t reply right away.

 

In the end, Adam doesn’t text him but instead he calls Jordan.

 

He waits a couple moments, finger hovering over the call accept for some reason before he finally presses it and brings the phone up to his ear.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hey,” Adam says sounding kind of breathless like he’d been running or working out.

 

“So, uh,” Jordan says, pacing around his room.

 

Adam laughs but it sounds almost nervous. “You haven’t heard? I thought with this school’s gossip spreading, everyone would know.”

 

Jordan shrugs, but then remembers that Adam can’t actually see him so he needs to verbally reply. “I try not to listen in, honestly. Not a very reliable source.”

 

There’s some shuffling on the other side and some mumbling curse words. “Shit, sorry, I have to go one of my sisters just kinda, uh, burnt popcorn and my other sister is about to murder her. She takes her popcorn very seriously.”

He laughs.

“I meant to make this phone call longer, sorry.”

 

Jordan laughs too, smiling. “Yeah, sure, uh… Text me if you need to be saved from your sisters.”

 

“I’ve held up for just over 17 years, I think I can handle it,” he laughs. “I’ll text you anyways J.”

 

The line goes dead and Jordan bites his lip, trying to contain his grin because Adam gave him a nickname.

 

 _‘Hope the nick nam was ok !’_ Adam texts him a couple minutes later.

 

_‘Yeah, it’s fine:)’_

 

______________________________

 

“Jesus, you look like you didn’t sleep at all last night,” Philippe greets him the next morning as Jordan drinks the still hot coffee from his travel mug.

 

He preferred tea (what sane British person didn’t?) but after staying up well past midnight texting Adam the night before, he could use the pick me up that coffee provided.

 

“I was up late talking to Adam,” Jordan explains, yawning slightly as they head to class.

 

Philippe waggles his eyebrows at him. “I knew you liked him.”

 

Jordan quickly glances around (a habit) to check that no one is paying attention to them before turning back to Philippe. “First of all, I don’t like him like that, second of all shut the fuck up.”

 

Philippe physically skips in front of him and into the classroom, humming a tune under his breath like the Disney princess he truly is as Jordan follows him with an eye roll. He slides into his own seat, noting how Philippe had slid into the seat beside Emre and chooses not to comment.

 

Just before the bell rings, a flustered looking Adam runs into the room dropping into the seat next to Jordan as he runs a hand through his messy hair.

 

“Sleep in?” Jordan quirks and Adam just looks at him before breaking into a grin.

 

“Only cuz I was up late talking to this idiot,” he jokes.

 

“Idiot?” Jordan asks in a teasing tone.

 

Before Adam can continue though, the teacher is calling their attention to the front of the room with a clearing of her throat. Jordan’s only half paying attention when his phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out, looking at the text from Adam.

 

_‘We stil on 4 intervew aftr skol 2day??:)’_

 

Jordan looks over at him with a raised eyebrow.

 

_‘I thought you had practice’_

 

_‘Oh yeh. Aftr that???:):)’_

 

 _‘Sure thing’_ Jordan types out quickly under the desk and sliding his phone back into his pocket just as Adam gets his taken away by the teacher.

 

He sends Adam a slightly smug look, which only turns into a grin when Adam attempts to glare at him (it ends up making him look like an upset puppy more than anything).

 

They don’t talk the rest of the period, but they do send each other glances and smiles, some of which causing Jordan to duck his head to try and hide his blush because Adam’s just so… Genuine with everything he does and it makes Jordan stomach do stupid things like flip when he pointedly doesn’t like Adam because even if he does like guys, that doesn’t mean he likes Jordan.

 

“Sorry about your phone,” Jordan offers when the bell rings and they start shoving their stuff into their bags and head for the doors.

 

Adam shrugs. “It’s cool. Oh, hey, uh, do you wanna watch me practice? I mean we’re going to your place afterwards and I have a car so we can just drive to your place after so then I don’t risk getting lost- you’d be surprised how easily that happens,” he rambles, scratching at the back of his neck.

 

Jordan laughs. “Sure. I’ll meet you in the gym after school.”

 

Adam grins at him, completely open and honest before waving and disappearing into the crowd.

 

______________________________

 

After school, as to his words, Jordan heads to the gym after saying his goodbyes to Philippe (and his suggestive waggling eyebrows) with his school bag and headphones around his neck. As he walks into the gym, looking around he can’t find Adam anywhere and yeah, that’s awkward.

 

Jordan stands awkwardly at the entrance of the gym, looking around for Adam or Emre when a boy who looks a couple years younger than him pops up in front of him.

 

“Who’re you looking for mate?” He asks in a cheerful voice.

 

“Uh- Adam,” Jordan says, biting his lip. “Do you know where he is?”

 

The boy looks at Jordan. “You aren’t Jordan Henderson by any chance are you?”

 

Jordan nods slowly. “Uh… yeah?”

 

Surprisingly enough, the boy starts laughing.

“I’ll be right back.”

He jogs over to the changing room; ducking inside but not before Jordan can hear him yelling. “Oi, Ads, your boyfriend’s waiting for you!”

 

Adam’s coming out of the change room a few seconds later, face bright red as he jogs over to Jordan.

 

“Sorry about Daniel,” he says in a nervous laugh as he scratches behind his neck but Jordan’s distracted because.

 

Fucking Adam is shirtless.

 

Jordan stares at his chest for a couple seconds before snapping himself out of it and looking up at Adam’s blushing face.

 

“Yeah it’s uh, it’s fine.”

 

Just like you.

He adds in his head as he quickly checks out Adam again because he’s only human and fuck, he’s just really hot ok?

 

Adam laughs, smiling at him while he continues to blush. “You can sit on the bleachers and watch if you want or, uh, whatever.”

 

Jordan nods. “I’ll just be. Over there. On the bleachers.” He nods again awkwardly before heading over to them, cursing himself mentally.

 

He sits in the middle of the bleachers, putting his feet up on the seats in front of him, grabbing out one of his notebooks from his bag and opening it to a blank page before beginning the search for a pencil. After finding one, he looks around the gym before his eyes finally land on where Adam’s talking to a couple of teammates, laughing with them.

 

Jordan can’t help but notice the way the light seems to be hitting him just right and he begins drawing on the page. One of his favourite things to do was drawing. He’d take up drawing as a profession if it wasn’t for the fact that he didn’t think he was good enough for it. He liked reporting just as much anyways, so he wasn’t too strung up about it.

 

Jordan bits his lip, eyeing Adam for another moment before ducking his head and continuing with what he’s doing. He doesn’t really pay attention to what’s going on around him, just looking up occasionally and scanning for Adam, trying to get all of his features right.

 

“Whatcha ya drawing?” Adam asks, coming up to sit next him a little while later, startling Jordan.

 

He quickly closes his sketchbook, not wanting Adam to feel creeped out or anything that he was drawing him. “Uh, nothing,” he says.

 

Smooth Henderson, real smooth.

 

Adam laughs, leaning back a bit before taking a gulp of water. “Practice is just finishing up now,” he tells him.

 

“Shouldn’t you be out there too then?” Jordan says cheekily.

 

“I’m supervising,” Adam retaliates with a laugh.

 

Jordan laughs as well; grabbing his bag to put his book back in since he’s being occupied by Adam now.

 

“Sure you are,” he teases.

 

“Oi watch it Henderson,” he says putting up a couple fists while grinning, “I could take you.”

 

Jordan laughs, pretending to think about it. “Nah, don’t think you could Lallana.”

 

Adam looks around, seeing that most of his teammates have already gone into the change room and grabs Jordan’s hand, dragging him down the bleachers.

 

“Let’s test that theory then.”

 

“Adam!” Jordan laughs but allows himself to be pulled. “I’m not fighting you.”

 

Adam grabs a spare pair of gloves, tossing them at Jordan. “Scared you’re gonna lose?” he says cheekily.

 

“Nah I just don’t wanna hear you whine when I beat you,” he smirks, putting on the gloves even if he really has no idea what he’s doing.

 

The few matches that he’s been to, he hadn’t really been paying attention to what the boxers were doing.

 

Adam ducks under one of the ropes and into the ring, winking at Jordan before he does the same. Adam puts up his fist, still grinning at Jordan as he falls into a flawless starting position. Jordan attempts to do the same but doesn’t quite get it right.

 

“Move your back foot a little and then open your stance a bit,” Adam advises.

 

“Like this?” Jordan asks after doing what he says.

 

“Little bit wider. It’s awkward at first,” Adam shrugs.

 

Jordan does as he’s told and Adam’s right, it does feel a little on the awkward side.

 

“This?”

 

Adam nods, moving in a bit to hit Jordan in a very obvious way, right on his gloves too.

 

“You’re going easy on me,” Jordan laughs, trying to punch back but Adam dodges.

 

“Don’t wanna hurt you too much,” Adam half jokes.

 

Jordan rolls his eyes and for the next few minutes, they pretend to have a ‘completely serious match’ as Adam had said. Neither of them are actually aiming to hurt or actually win their match, seeing as they’re just messing around, so Jordan’s surprised when Adam picks him up fire fighter style but it doesn’t hurt.

 

“Adam,” a new voice says, causing Adam to drop him and ok, that one hurt.

 

“Shi-” Adam starts to say. “Are you okay Jordan?”

 

Jordan nods and is about to reply when the same voice interrupts. “Adam, practice is over why are you and Mr…?”

 

“Henderson,” Jordan says, “uh, Jordan Henderson.”

 

“Coach Southgate, we were just-” Adam starts to explain but his coach cuts him off.

 

“I hope you’re about to say leaving,” he says in a cold, calculated voice. “The gym’s not open to non-teammates.”

 

“Oh, uh, right,” Adam says awkwardly as he goes into his office.

 

“Well that was…” Jordan says, getting up from where he fell on his ass.

 

Adam scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry about him. Coach can be a little hard on people.”

 

Jordan shrugs. “Wanna go get changed so we can head back to mine?”

 

Adam nods, smiling at him before jogging off to the change rooms.

 

______________________________

 

“Just a warning,” Jordan says as they pull into his driveway, “my sister is insane.”

 

Adam laughs, grinning at him. “I have sisters too J.”

 

Jordan blushes slightly at the nickname before grabbing his bag and getting out of the car.

 

“Alright but I warned you,” he says as they walk up the steps and into house. “Mum, I’m home!”

 

“Oh, Jordan, I need you to-” she says, popping her head out of the kitchen. “Oh. Jordan, you brought a friend. Hello.”

 

“I’m Adam,” Adam says, introducing himself politely.

 

“I’m Liz, Jordan’s mum,” she says with a kind smile before ducking back into the kitchen. “I’ll let you boys go study then, I assume that’s what you’re doing…”

 

Jordan rolls his eyes, motioning Adam to follow him upstairs and into his room before he can run into his sister.

 

“So uh,” Jordan says awkwardly as he closes the door behind Adam, who’s taking in his small room.

 

There’s not much in it, honestly. Just a desk, dresser a bed shoved into one corner. The walls are covered in everything from band posters to news clippings to his own drawings. Adam’s looking at one he did when he was extremely bored one summer, a detailed drawing of Batman that had taken him two week to finish.

 

“This is amazing,” he says, looking at in awe.

 

Jordan ducks his head, blushing. “Thanks.”

 

“You’re a fan?” he asks, pointing to the drawing.

 

Jordan nods. “Bit of dork.”

 

A corner of Adam’s mouth quirks up in a small smile. “I’ve got a massive comic book collection at home.”

 

“Mine’s under the bed,” Jordan finds himself admitting as he returns the smile to Adam.

 

Adam laughs, sitting on his bed. “So, you wanna start the interview?”

 

Jordan nods, collapsing on his chair as he looks for his notebook in his bag. He eventually finds it and pulls it out, grabbing a pencil from on his desk.

 

“Alright…” He mumbles, looking at his questions before deciding on one that Philippe had suggested as a joke. “If you fought the Rock, who would win?” he asks, grinning.

 

Adam laughs. “The Rock, definitely. Have you seen the muscles on that guy? His biceps are the size of my head, jeez.”

 

Jordan laughs as well, jotting down what he said. “Won’t disagree with you there.” He flips through his questions, looking for another one. “Do you have someone you think of when you punch your opponent?”

 

“That’s a little violent,” Adam says with a small laugh. “Uh, not really I guess. I mean, I sort of think about the guys who used to bully me but not too often.”

 

Jordan nods again, unsure exactly of what to say. It seemed so odd, thinking about Adam getting bullied when he was so popular at their school. The literal definition of a boy next door.

 

Jordan ends up asking a couple more questions before they got distracted, talking about random things when Adam mentions a party that happened a couple weeks ago and Jordan remembers.

 

“Oh, speaking of parties,” he says before he can over think it and talk himself out of it, “me and Philippe are friends with someone who’s invited us to a party tomorrow night. You and Emre wanna come?”

 

“That alright with your friend?” Adam asks, ever so polite.

 

Jordan shrugs. “Nah, he won’t mind.”

 

Adam smiles at him. “Sure thing. You wanna text me the address or…”

 

“Philippe can pick you guys up,” Jordan shrugs, leaning back in his chair.

 

______________________________

 

The night of the party, five minutes before Philippe’s due to pick him up; Jordan is standing in the middle of his bedroom in only boxers, clothes thrown everywhere.

 

“Fuck,” he says, running a hand over his face, annoyed. “I don’t even know why I can’t find anything to wear,” he mutters but he knows that’s a lie. “Because I don’t like him.”

 

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Philippe singsongs, walking into his room.

 

“You’re early,” Jordan says, not even trying to cover up. They’re close enough friends that they’ve seen each other’s dicks a few times. He flops onto his bed, groaning. “I can’t find anything to wear, this is stupid.”

 

“Because I’m an amazing best mate and I knew you’d be freaking out over this,” Philippe says, looking around his floor and grabbing a couple pieces of clothing and throwing them at Jordan. “Go. Dress.”

 

Jordan groans again, more for dramatics as he rolls off of his bed and pulls on the (absurdly tight) jeans and loose tank top. “I hate you and you’re not allowed to say a word about this to anyone ever.”

 

“Mhm, now hurry up and do your hair,” Philippe says, taking the empty spot on Jordan’s bed.

 

Jordan glares at him before going out of his room and into the bathroom, grabbing his hair products and quickly pulling it up into his usual quiff, making sure it’s perfect.

 

“You got the address from James this time right?” he yells, adding a bit more product as a just in case.

 

“Yes,” Philippe grumbles, coming to lean against the doorframe. “You forget to ask for an address once and suddenly-”

 

“It’s happened five times Philippe,” Jordan says in a flat voice, raising a slight eyebrow at him in the mirror.

 

“Fuck you Henderson,” Philippe says without heat.

 

Jordan grins at himself in the mirror, happy with the way he’s looking (damn he looks hot. Like usual) before turning to Philippe.

 

“We both know you’re not my type Philippe.”

 

Philippe moves out of the way, letting Jordan go down the steps first. “Yes, your type tends to be jocks with biceps bigger than your face, which begs the question-”

 

“Nope,” Jordan says. “We’re not going there or I swear to god, I’ll tell Can everything.”

 

“Not cool,” Philippe mutters.

 

“Mum?” Jordan calls out, opting to ignore Philippe as he pokes his head into the living room. “Me and Philippe are leaving now.”

 

“Mmm, be safe,” she says, not looking up from the book she’s reading. “Use protection, don’t get too drunk, and be home before 4am, you know the drill.”

 

Jordan’s face goes beet red as he nods. “Right, bye,” he says quickly, dragging Philippe out of the house as he does so.

 

Philippe laughs loudly as he’s dragged to his car, “I can’t believe your mum is fine with you partying and shit.”

 

Jordan shrugs, getting into the passenger side of the car. “She knows I’d do it anyways.”

 

Philippe pulls out of the driveway, humming along to the indie song that was playing loudly in the car as they drive. “Shit, what’s Adam’s address?”

 

Jordan laughs loudly as he rattles off the address Adam had given him earlier and Philippe makes an illegal U-turn, getting them on the right track to Adam’s place. They pull into his driveway a few minutes later and Jordan’s mentally debating getting out of the car and going to actually knock on the door or if he should just text Adam, when the front door opens and Adam and Emre are walking over to the car and-

 

Fuck.

 

Jordan’s jaw doesn’t drop but it’s a close thing.

Adam’s wearing a white shirt with a jean vest over top of it, his arms completely uncovered and showing off his muscles, with loose jeans that are- more likely than not- hanging past his ass which, hello boxers that Jordan would definitely like to pull off and-

 

“Hey,” Adam says, sliding into the seat behind Philippe with a small smile.

 

Jordan’s face flushes red and he hopes the car is dark enough that Adam can’t see it.

 

“H-Hey,” he replies, offering a smile back, catching his eye in the mirror.

 

“Where’s this party anyways?” Emre asks abruptly, causing Jordan to look away from Adam’s eyes.

 

“Up on Middleton Hill,” Philippe says, taking a left.

 

Emre’s eyebrows rise. “You both know that’s the upscale part of town, right?”

 

Jordan can’t help but roll his eyes. “Yes.”

 

“Alright so how’d you score an invite?” Emre presses and even Adam looks curious.

 

“We know a guy,” Jordan says, trying to be vague but Philippe ruins it.

 

“My old neighbour moved up there, the three of us are close,” he says, pulling onto the street.

 

They hear the party before they see it, of course, the loud bass bounding (even softly) through the car, getting louder as they get closer to the house (if you could call it that. They were more like mansions up here).

 

“You driving tonight or me?” Jordan asks as they come to a stop a bit away from the party.

 

Philippe thinks about it.

“It’s my turn. Go get drunk,” he says with a laugh, pocketing his keys before turning around to face the other two. “Try to be back at the car for 3, if you’re not coming back with us text one of us or find us so we don’t have to wait for you.”

 

______________________________

 

2 hours later, Jordan’s completely smashed and a little bit high too.

 

So, all in all, the party? Is fucking great.

 

“Jamesie, Jamesie.” Jordan laughs, slinging an arm over James’s shoulder. “Where’s that bird of yours? What’s her name again?”

 

James giggles, face flushed red from the drinks. “Amy,” he slurs together, accent thicker than usual. “She’s st’dying. I think. Sm’rt, she is.”

 

Jordan laughs, and pokes James on the nose. “Wanna hear a secret?” he tries to whisper but it comes out more of a yell. “I brought a boyyyy with me,” he laughs, like it’s the funniest joke he’s told all night.

 

“Wha’s his name?” James giggles, the two boys stumbling onto the floor so they can lie down.

 

“Adaaaam,” Jordan says. “He’s a boxer and fuck, all I can think about is him picking me up and holding me against a wall while he fucks me.”

 

“Hot,” James says, taking a hit from the joint that was going around the room before passing it to Jordan.

 

Jordan takes the joint wordlessly, putting it to his mouth and breathing in, holding the hot smoke until it starts to burn, letting it fall out of his mouth slowly. “Fuck, I wanna shotgun with him. Corrupt his innocence and then have him fuck me hard enough I can’t sit properly for months,” Jordan lets his mind mull over those thoughts, pants getting a bit tighter as he does. “Mmm fuck, he’d look so good naked.”

 

“Mate just go make out with him,” James mutters, grabbing his beer from where he put it down. He goes to take a swing of it before he puts it back down, probably for the better.

 

Jordan rolls over and pushes himself off the floor with a stumble. “M’gonna… M’gonna go find him and lick his abs.”

 

“Yeah mate, you go do that,” James slurs with his eyes closed. “You go lick those abs.”

 

Jordan stumbles out of the room and down the stairs, deciding to go and look for Adam in the kitchen first, and forces his way through all the hot, sweaty bodies dancing in the front room. There’s a lot less people in the kitchen, really just a couple people doing shots and a couple making out in the corner. Jordan goes to the corner, mixing a little bit of coke with a lot of rum and downing the whole thing before he decides to go and look outside for Adam.

 

There’s a pool out there that, even in his drunken state, Jordan makes sure to stay far away from, stumbling along the porch and out onto the grass, seeing a familiar figure lying on the ground. Jordan smiles to himself, stumbling over and he goes to flop down beside Adam, but he ends up on top of him instead.

Adam lets out a loud _‘oof’_ but when he sees who it is, he smiles and wraps an arm around his waist.

 

“You’re drunk,” he comments, obviously smelling the alcohol on his breath, “and high.” And the weed on his clothes, more likely than not.

 

“M’happy,” Jordan giggles, wiggling slightly and getting comfortable on Adam. “And kinda horny.”

 

Adam lets out a choke of laughter, his arm tightening slightly. “Well, uh-”

 

“James thinks I should lick your abs,” he muses as if this was a totally normal comment. “Kinda wanna lick your ass.”

 

Adam chokes. “Jordan,” he says and if Jordan wasn’t as drunk as he was, he would have figured out that was a moan.

 

Totally a moan.

 

“Wouldn’t mind licking your dick either,” he nods to himself. “I bet you have a very pretty cock.”

 

He pats Adam on the peck, as if to say _‘good job’_.

 

“Fuck, how drunk are you?” Adam asks, face bright red.

 

“Very,” Jordan giggles, rolling off of Adam. “I came here to get laid but no one is hot enough.” He pouts at Adam like this is his entire fault, because, really, it is.

 

“I’m… sorry?” Adam says, confused and unsure exactly what he’s supposed to say.

 

“Why aren’t you drunk?” Jordan says randomly, changing from topic to topic as he pleases.

 

Adam shrugs slightly. “Don’t like it.”

 

Jordan nods as if he understands but he really doesn’t. “You should get high then.”

 

“Like with weed?” Adam says dumbly.

 

“No Adam, with a kite,” Jordan can’t help but say sarcastically, but he’s grinning.

 

Adam tries to glare at him but he ends up grinning. “You never know these days, wild kids,” he jokes.

 

Jordan laughs; letting his head his head roll onto Adam’s shoulder. “Fuck I’m going to have the biggest hangover tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah you are,” Adam agrees with him.

 

“Damn,” Jordan says quietly. “Fuck it, I might as well drink more,” he gets up, stumbling a bit as he does so before turning around to look at Adam. “You should come dance with me,” he grins down at him.

 

“I thought you were getting a drink,” Adam points out, but he’s getting up anyways.

 

Jordan snorts. “I drink quickly.”

 

The two boys walk (well, Adam walks, Jordan stumbles) back into the house and into the kitchen, Jordan making himself another drink and chugging it down as quickly as he can, only a few drops escaping his mouth. He wipes at his face with the back of his wrist, not really concerned with how that’ll make him look.

 

“Ok, I’m kinda impressed,” Adam admits with a small laugh.

 

Jordan grins at him, grabbing his hand and tugging him into the front room and into the middle of the crowd of people, not really thinking about it. He grins wildly at Adam over his shoulder, pulling Adam’s unsure body flush against his back, putting the one hand on his hip, the other one following it instinctively.

 

“Just relax,” Jordan yells over the music, letting his hips fall in beat with the music, grinding back against Adam.

 

Adam’s grip tightens on his hips, pulling them together more and grinding back against him and Jordan lets out a low moan and flips his body around so they’re front to front, his hands going to tangle into Adam’s short hair, as Adam slips a leg between his. Jordan bites his lip, holding back a moan as his head falls forward, head resting on Adam’s shoulder as they dance (grind seems like a more appropriate word or even sex with their clothes on).

 

After what feels like hours of their dance, someone taps Adam on the shoulder, causing him to pull away slightly.

 

“Oh, uh, hi,” Adam says awkwardly as Jordan takes in the girl.

 

She’s shorter than Adam, with curly brown hair and soft eyes.

 

“You promised me a dance Ads,” she says with a grin and Jordan really doesn’t like her because, rude, him and Adam were dancing together.

 

He opens his mouth to say that but instead of words coming out of his mouth, vomit does. All over the girl and a couple bystanders.

 

The girl lets out a scream of disgust (as do the bystanders), glaring at Jordan before taking a calming breath.

 

“If you’ll excuse me,” she grits out, turning on her heel before beginning her obvious search for a bathroom.

 

Jordan can’t help but laugh, but it stops abruptly when Adam glares at him.

 

“Sorry,” he mutters, leaning on Adam for support.

 

He felt seriously tired all of a sudden.

 

Adam’s eyes soften and he puts an arm around Jordan’s waist, helping him stand right. “C’mon, lets get you to the car babe.”

 

______________________________

 

Jordan wakes up the next morning with one of his top ten worst hangovers and no memory of how he got home.

 

He groans softly, rolling over to look at the time (11:03AM) before taking the pill and glass of water, sitting up as far as he has to before collapsing back down as his memory un-jogs itself.

 

He remembers going to the party with Philippe, Emre and Adam and meeting up with James before getting completely smashed and high. He remembers going out to find Adam-

 

“Fuck,” he whispers in horror, vaguely remembering all of the stuff he said to Adam before dancing with him and- “Fuck,” he says again, louder this time. He puked on some chick. “Nice one Jordan,” he mutters to himself, checking his phone. There are a few drunken texts from Philippe and one from Adam.

 

_‘I bet ur hangovr is horilbe ! Fel betr sn , hop the watr ad pil hlp !’_

 

Jordan wants to hope that Adam didn’t remember anything about last night but he was the drunk one, not Adam.

 

 _‘Thanks for the help Adam.’_ he sends, hoping maybe this will be one of the things that nobody ever mentions.

 

 _‘Cldnt lave somne as drnk as u 2 gt thrmsef hom ! : )’_ Adam replies a few seconds later.

 

Before Jordan can reply, there’s another text coming in. _‘Do u rmr lst nit ?’_

 

_‘Bits and parts.’_

 

It wasn’t technically a lie. There were still some fuzzy parts in his brain, just not the things he wanted to be fuzzy.

 

Adam’s reply isn’t for another few minutes but when Jordan reads it his heart stops.

 

_‘Do u rmr wat u sad 2 me ?’_

 

“Fuck,” he swears, running his hand through his stiff hair.

 

_‘Yeah, sorry. I’m a bit of an insane drunk’_

His finger hovers over the send button before he quickly presses it and locks his phone; shoving it under his pillow, face bright red.

 

It vibrates under his pillow and Jordan has to build up the courage to look at the message, which is more likely than not telling Jordan to fuck off.

 

 _‘Lol its fne u wre drnk’_ Adam replies and, ok, that’s a pleasant surprise.

 

 _‘I still feel bad about it’_ Jordan replies, chewing on his bottom lip as he waits for a response.

 

 _‘Mak it up 2 me ad we cn gt som lnch ? : )’_ Adam replies and Jordan can’t help but let a small smile tug over his lips.

 

 _‘Sure thing, ill pick you up for 12?’_ he texts back even if the very thought of food makes him want to puke.

 

 _‘: ) ill c u thn ! : )’_ Adam texts and Jordan figures that’s the end of that conversation so he locks his phone, putting it back under his pillow as he stares up at the ceiling of his room, smiling to himself before a though dawns on him.

 

“I fucking like him,” he mutters before groaning loudly and rolling over to stuff his face into his pillow. “I fucking like Adam fucking Lallana,” Jordan says again into his pillow.

 

He lies there for a few moments before rolling out of his bed and landing on the floor in a pile and letting his head fall back again.

A process of getting up.

He lies there for another few moments before finally getting up off the floor and groaning as a wave of nausea goes over him as he heads to his shower.

 

It doesn’t feel like he’s long in the shower but when Jordan gets out and wraps a towel around his waist, he glances at the clock realising its already 11:48.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeats, running out of the bathroom and past one of his sisters and back into his room.

 

He quickly dries off his body and grabbing a random pair of jeans and top, smelling them to make sure they aren’t dirty (they probably are but they don’t smell too bad) before grabbing a beanie off his dresser and shoving it on his head before racing downstairs.

 

“Woah, where are you going mister?” his mother stops him just as he ducks into the kitchen to grab the keys to the family car.

 

“Date,” Jordan winces as soon as he says it. “Not really. We’re just friends.”

 

(If his voice is just a little bitter on the last word, well, you can’t blame him.)

 

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Friend? Is it that… Ale-”

 

“Adam,” Jordan corrects automatically, proving his mother to be right. He makes a face, realising what he did. “Can I borrow the car?” He glances at the clock. 11:58. “I’m already late mum, please.”

 

She sighs, handing over the keys. “Careful with it. Your father will have both of our heads if you crash it or get a ticket.”

 

Jordan grins, quickly kissing her on the cheek.

 

“Love you mum!” he calls, rushing out the house, only stopping to grab his leather jacket.

 

He quickly texts Adam to tell him that he’s running late before he starts the car and pulls out of the driveway and driving over to Adam’s.

 

He pulls up to Adam’s house at 12:05 (not too bad, really) and is about to start his debate on whether or not he should go up to the house and ring the doorbell when someone knocks on his passenger door window. Jordan looks over and grins at Adam, unlocking the car before Adam slides in next to him.

 

“Drive,” Adam says with a laugh. “M’on the run.”

 

Jordan laughs as well, starting the car and driving down the road. “Who’re you running from?”

 

“The evil queen, aka my sister,” Adam grins over at him before reaching for the radio. “Do you mind?”

 

Jordan shakes his head, which is abnormal for him because usually he doesn’t even let Philippe touch the radio. Adam fiddles with it for a few moments (making an adorably annoyed face when he accidentally turns it to a country station) before settling on a Bruno Mars song that’s playing.

 

“I love this song,” Jordan admits, taking a right to his favourite little café.

 

“He’s a great artist,” Adam agrees as Jordan pulls the car into a parking lot.

 

It takes Jordan a few moments to find a parking spot (the café was close to the town’s only mall, so the parking lot is always busy), but he manages to find one rather close to it and gets out after stopping the car.

 

“Never been here before,” Adam says, looking around.

 

“S’right over there,” Jordan says, pointing to it. “Not many people know it’s a café, they just think it’s a house or shop or something”

 

Adam smiles at him as the duck into it. “That’s what I always thought. How’d you find it?”

 

“Philippe did, actually,” Jordan says, pulling Adam over to his favourite table in the back corner. No one ever sat in it because it was small and one of the table legs was too short but Jordan liked it. “He was wondering around looking for a job and stumbled in here,” Jordan smiles briefly at the memory. “What’d you want to drink?”

 

“A tea would be lovely. Two milk and a sugar,” Adam says, going into his pocket for some money but Jordan stops him.

 

“My treat, remember?” he says with a soft smile before going up to the till.

 

There’s a small line but he’s at the front of it soon enough and he’s ordering Adam’s tea, a coffee for himself and a couple sandwiches for them to eat. He brings their food back over to the table where Adam’s waiting, sliding into the free seat.

 

“Tea and a ham sandwich,” he gives Adam a quick smile. “Hope you like ham.”

 

“Love it,” Adam says, biting into it. They eat in silence for a few moments before Adam puts down the half of his sandwich that he hasn’t eaten and begins to talk. “So… Since we’re hanging out, do you wanna work on your project? You never did tell me when it was due?”

 

“Like, a couple weeks, a couple days before the paper runs,” Jordan says, offhandedly before laughing slightly. “You probably didn’t even know the school has a paper.”

 

Adam frowns. “I did. I read it every month.”

 

Jordan blushes in embarrassment. “Oh.”

 

“It’s alright,” Adam shrugs, settling back. “Wanna crack at it?”

 

“I don’t have my notebook,” Jordan says and curses himself mentally. He never leaves the house without it.

 

Adam grins at him, leaning forward. “Wing it.”

 

Jordan looks at him, unable to hold a small smile back. “Alright then Adam.” He thinks for a few minutes before grinning wildly at him. “How long do you bet you could hold me up against a wall?”

 

Adam looks at him for a moment and Jordan thinks he’s pushed too far but then he starts laughing, causing a few other costumers to look their way and he immediately tries to quiet it, causing Jordan to giggle.

 

“Dunno,” Adam says before waggling his eyes. “We could always find out.”

 

Jordan laughs as well. “I don’t bet it’s very long, maybe those muscles are all fake.”

 

“Oi,” Adam says in a fake offended voice. “I’ll have you know, everything about me is that big.”

 

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively again causing Jordan to choke out an unexpected laugh.

 

“Oh my god, was that an innuendo?” Jordan asks. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

 

“You could,” Adam can’t help but add, grin stretching across his face fully.

 

Jordan can’t help but smile too, laughing softly. “Alright, I gave you that one.”

 

“So, Jordan, my turn,” Adam demands.

 

“Your turn?” Jordan raises an eyebrow but his usual judging face is disrupted by a grin.

 

Adam nods. “Yup. I’m gonna conduct my own interview here.”

 

Jordan leans back. “Alright, crack at it.”

 

Adam’s silent for a couple moments before he pouts at Jordan. “This is hard. How did you come up with a question so quickly?”

 

“Years of practice,” Jordan says. “My turn again. Any other talents?”

 

Adam’s pout deepens adorably. “Not fair,” he mumbles. “And I can kinda play football, I guess. That’s about it. Just your average man.”

 

“Wouldn’t mind see you play one day,” Jordan admits softly, smiling at Adam.

 

“What about you Mr. I-can-draw-and-come-up-with-questions-on-the-spot-and-I-look-like-a-Greek-god? Got any more hidden talents?” Adam teases.

 

“You think I look like a Greek god?” Jordan can’t help repeat, wanting clarification as a blush creeps up on him.

 

Adam laughs softly. “Everyone thinks that Jordan. You’re gorgeous.”

 

Jordan’s blush deepens more and he ducks his head, trying to conceal. “No.”

 

“What?” Adam asks, confused.

 

“No, I don’t have anymore talents,” Jordan clarifies, the blush going down and he looks back up at Adam. “I mean my dad thinks I can play soccer but I’ve never had time to try out for the team.”

 

“I guess we’re gonna have to play each other one time.” Adam says with a soft smile.

 

“I guess so,” Jordan says back in an equally soft voice, looking into Adam’s eyes.

 

They’re a soft, deep, rich brown that he can’t help but get lost in. He looks away with a blush a few seconds later, but he catches the same blush on Adam’s cheeks which gives him a little bit of courage and hope.

 

“So, um, any idols?” Jordan asks, trying to get it back to safer topics.

 

He might be a littler braver or whatever, but he still didn’t want to do anything about his… feelings unless he’s sure Adam likes him too.

 

“I’m a bit fond of Leona Lewis, honestly,” Adam admits with a laugh. “Dunno really, haven’t really thought about it,” he shrugs. “What about you?”

 

Jordan laughs. “You can’t keep just stealing my questions Adam,” he teases. “I get to ask another because of that.”

 

“You’re rather unfair,” Adam laughs.

 

Jordan winks. “All’s fair in love and war babe.”

 

Internally, Jordan starts panicking because, holy shit, did he just say that? That was totally flirting like you can’t mistake that for friendliness holy fucking shit-

 

“And what’s this?” Adam asks in a coy voice, which ok, that’s definitely flirting back.

 

Jordan looks Adam’s body up and down, like he’s trying to decide but really he just likes looking at Adam’s body because, honestly, who wouldn’t?

 

“Haven’t decided yet,” Jordan says with a small shrug and a very small smile, like it’s all a game to him when, holy shit, he’s completely terrified and panicky on the inside.

 

“Are you always this coy?” Adam asks.

 

“Are you always this aggressive?” Jordan raises an eyebrow and the two stare at each other for a couple moments before they both break at the same time, grinning at one another.

 

“I’m actually not aggressive,” Adam admits. “Simple boy, really. I’m a big family person, big softie… I just happen-”

 

“To enjoy beating people up?” Jordan supplies.

 

“I’m not beating people up,” Adam says. “It’s a game, a sport.”

 

“Which you beat people up in,” Jordan says again and Adam frowns.

 

“No, it’s more complicated than that,” Adam shrugs. “I didn’t get it at first either. I took it up as a way to protect myself from my bullies, maybe even dish some of the beating they gave me out back to them. You learn as you begin to get better at it, that it’s more than that. It’s calming.” He pauses, thinking about it. “Have you ever just let go of all your aggression, your emotions, everything and just hit something?” Adam laughs. “It’s almost like the adult way of throwing a temper tantrum, hitting a punching bag over and over until your muscles physically can’t take it anymore. It’s soothing, a method to calm yourself. Boxing isn’t about hurting people, it’s about helping yourself.”

 

Jordan lets out a low whistle. “Very nice speech there.”

 

Adam blushes, ducking his head.

 

“You think it’s stupid,” he says and Jordan frowns.

 

“No, I just complimented you.”

 

Adam’s blush gets redder. “I thought you were mocking me.”

 

Jordan’s frown deepens. “Even if I didn’t agree with you- and I do agree with you, anyone can see how passionate you are about it, it would be plain rude to just mock it like that.”

 

Adam smiles up at him. “What about you? Journalism, I mean.”

 

Jordan shrugs. “You punch people, I interrogate them.”

 

“I hardly think this is an interrogation,” Adam says.

 

“Your copping method is punching things, mine’s getting answers,” Jordan shrugs again, “simple.”

 

Adam looks at him. “Alright, I’ll take what I can get.”

 

Jordan laughs. “Sorry, I’m not the speech type like you, Prince Charming.”

 

“That’s a new one,” Adam laughs. “Emre usually just calls me Golden Boy or something like that. Never been called a prince.”

 

Jordan mock bows, still sitting causing them both to laugh. “So, our loveliest prince, tell me, what do you think about the fan group for your abs?”

 

“I have a fan group… For my abs?” Adam asks.

 

“Dunno, actually,” Jordan says. “Figured you should,” he winks at Adam jokingly. “I’d be the president.”

 

“Well if I have a fan club for my abs, I’ll be starting one for your face,” they both laugh, eyes catching and sending one another a smaller, more private smile. “Any last questions, my commoner?”

 

“Just one, your majesty,” Jordan jokes. “What do you do in your free time?”

 

Adam shrugs. “Family, mostly. Work on my schoolwork, hang out with Emre maybe. Told you I’m just your average man.”

 

Jordan smiles at him. “You’re not average.”

 

Adam rolls his eyes. “Just because I can pack a punch or take a few doesn’t mean I’m special.”

 

“You don’t see it?” Jordan cocks his head to the side slightly, looking at Adam who’s looking back at him with a clearly confused face. “There’s more to you than your muscles, stuff that no one else really sees. That’s why you’re special. That’s why you’re my Golden Boy”

 

Adam blushes. “Could say the same for you. Everyone thinks you’re this mysterious, broody poet and you’re just a big softie, looking for people to accept him for him.”

 

Jordan lets out a huff of laughter. “Takes one to know one.”

 

______________________________

 

 

So, there you have readers, our average man, Adam James Lallana. Bullied as a kid, but loved as a teenager. No one knows where he’s going, not even him but I think all of us know that once he’s gone, we’ll be seeing him. Whether it’s at a reunion (doubt it) or on the big screen for the World Championship Wrestling or, hell, maybe even the Olympics, high school isn’t the end for this athlete like it’s done for so many others. Even if he’s lost to us and maybe even himself, we all know Adam “Golden Boy” Lallana will make it in this world and while we’re sitting back, watching the TV years later maybe we’ll look over at our husbands, wives, partners and say “I knew that guy in high school.” And be proud of the fact we all had the pleasure of knowing Adam, even if only on the surface.

 

______________________________

 

“Well, your opinion on him sure did change,” Mr. Klopp says a couple weeks later when Jordan hands in his article. “I hoped it would.”

 

Jordan grins. He had been working on the article non-stop since the last time he saw Adam (he felt sort of bad about it, but after he’s done talking to her he was going to go talk to him) and it he was really happy with the finish product.

 

“Do you like it? Is it good?”

 

“Jordan…” he says in a serious tone but grins. “This is one of the best pieces I’ve read by you and any of my other students- don’t tell anyone I said that, I can’t be picking favourites,” he laughs softly.

 

Jordan’s grin grows. “Really?”

 

“Really,” he nods. “You know, I’d be more than happy to write a letter of recommendation for a university for you.”

 

Jordan’s eyes widen. “You… Seriously?”

 

Mr. Klopp nods again. “Jordan you have a talent. I haven’t seen a gift like this since… I don’t even know. Years.”

 

“Thank you, so, _so_ much,” Jordan says honestly before he leaves.

 

He turns left, instead of right, heading for the gym instead of his locker, not being able to wait and share the news with Adam. Jordan basically skips around the corner, beaming with good news and happiness that he accidentally runs into someone.

 

“Sor- Adam!” he says, smiling up at him.

 

Something feels off right away, the tension in the air or maybe the bags under Adam’s eyes that causes Jordan to frown.

 

“Hey are you ok?” he asks, concerned.

 

Adam rolls his eyes. “What do you want?”

 

Jordan physically recoils from the sharp, cold tone of his voice. “I just, uh, I just wanted to tell you that I got a good mark on our- my project. And Mr. Klopp is going to write me a letter of recommendation.”

 

Adam smiles at him, but Jordan knows right away it’s tight and fake. It looks more like a grimace than a smile. “That’s great news. Now move.”

 

“I just… Wanted to share the good news with you…” Jordan says in a soft voice as he feels his heart shattering a bit inside of him.

 

“We’re not friends Jordan. You made that clear,” Adam laughs, but it’s not the one Jordan knows.

 

It’s cold, and bitter and just plain wrong.

 

“I made that- Adam what are you talking about?” Jordan asks, grabbing his wrist as he tries to walk away. Adam pulls it out of his grip right away.

 

“Don’t, he says, not turning around to look at him but Jordan thinks he hears tears in Adam’s voice. “I need time just… Leave me alone Jordan. This was all for the project.”

 

The words hit Jordan like a brick. “Wha- what?” he whispers.

 

“Leave me alone. We’re not friends. We can’t be,” Adam says, taking a deep breath and walking away.

 

Jordan’s body slides to the floor, leaning against the lockers as tears stream down his face. He can’t move his hands to his face to wipe them, just letting them fall. He manages to call Philippe, whether it’s seconds, minutes, hours later, he doesn’t know.

 

“P-Philippe…” Jordan says, voice cracking.

 

“Jordan?” he answers. “Love, what’s wrong? Where are you?”

 

“I’m… I’m… Left of the journalism room,” Jordan manages to say. “It was all an act.”

 

“What was?” Philippe asks.

 

“Adam. Us being friends. Everything,” he whispers the last word, another set of tears coming over him. “Oh my god I think I love him.”

 

“Shhh… Love… I’ll be there in five seconds ok, hold it together Jordan,” Philippe says in a soothing voice.

 

“I love him Philippe and he-,” Jordan can’t finish the sentence as another sob wracks through his body, forcing him to curl up to himself. “He doesn’t even want me as a friend,” he whispers softly.

 

A moment later, his body is being pulled up off the floor and into one of Philippe’s hugs and Jordan looses it, letting himself fully cry, soaking Philippe’s shoulder. Philippe just stands there, rubbing a hand up and down his back.

“Shhh…” he soothes. “It’s gonna be ok Jordan, it always is.”

 

______________________________

 

Luckily for Jordan, the day _it_ happened was a Friday so he was able to spend the entire weekend in his bed, crying and cuddling with Philippe. After he managed to explain everything that had happened between him and Adam (including the Drunken Incident), Philippe was pissed but confused.

 

“I just don’t get it,” he said at first. “He was so… into you.”

 

Jordan lets out a bitter laugh that’s cut off by a sob. “Guess it was all just an act.” He rolls his eyes as a few more tears fall out and turns over on his bed. “I’ll see you on Monday Philippe.”

 

“But-” Philippe says.

 

“Monday, Philippe,” Jordan says again, voice cracking on his best friend’s name. “Please. I need to just… be alone.”

 

Philippe nods, running a hand through his hair softly before dropping a kiss to his forehead. “Call if you need anything, I’ll be here.”

 

Jordan lets out a watery laugh. “You always are.”

 

“I’m your best mate, Jordan, of course I am,” Philippe whispers, kissing his head one last time before leaving Jordan to wallow in his misery.

 

______________________________

 

On Monday, Philippe barely leaves his side (except for in the classes that they don’t share) but eventually, Emre corners Jordan just as he’s leaving his journalism class.

 

“Walk with me now.” Emre hisses, grabbing his bicep. “I’m so fucking pissed off at you Henderson and if you think I won’t beat you up, don’t test me.” He drags Jordan into one of the boy’s bathrooms, locking the door behind him. “What the bloody hell did you do to my best mate?!” he yells.

 

“What did I do to him!?” Jordan can’t help but yell back. “Maybe you should be asking him why we claims that we _‘can’t be friends’_ ” he uses the air quotes and everything, that’s how pissed he is. How dare Adam stick his guard dog on Jordan when he did nothing wrong.

 

“Maybe if you wouldn’t use him for a bloody project-” Emre screams.

 

“Use him!?” Jordan yells, laughing evilly. “Oh no, your _‘best mate’_ used me and I wanted to know why,” he seethes, walking closer to Emre. “I want answers and I want them, now. Tell me what the fuck Adam was talking about.”

 

Emre laughs as well, but it’s bitter too. “Why would I tell you about Adam’s feelings?” his eyes widen as soon as he says the last word.

 

“What feelings?” Jordan says, rolling his eyes. “His feelings for using me? Yeah, maybe he does feel bad for using me but it doesn’t change the fact he did.”

 

“HE NEVER USED YOU!” Emre screams at him, face going redder. “YOU USED TO HIM TO GET CLOSE AND GET A GOOD MARK BECAUSE YOU KNEW HOW ADAM HAS FELT ABOUT YOU FOR THE PAST 3 YEARS!”

 

“I WOULD NEVER USE SOMEONE, ESPECIALLY NOT ADAM, NOT WITH HOW I FEEL!” Jordan screams back, getting right up in Emre’s face. “I MADE SURE HE KNEW I DIDN’T LIKE HIM IN THE BEGINNING AND- wait what do you mean, Adam’s ‘felt’ for me for the past three years?”

 

Emre backs down as well for a moment. “You didn’t know?”

 

“Know what?” Jordan questions him.

 

“The boy’s been in love with you since year 10!” Emre yells, covering his mouth as soon as the words are out. “Oh my god, Adam’s going to kill me.”

 

Jordan’s wheels are turning in his head but there’s still a missing piece to the puzzle. “I didn’t use him, I swear. I didn’t even know that Adam liked me that way and… if he did, why would he tell me that we couldn’t be friends? Why did he tell you that I used him?”

 

“You didn’t talk to him for 2 weeks after you finished the project”, Emre points out.

 

Jordan turns on his heel, tugging his hands through his hair roughly as he paces. “God, I’m an idiot,” he swears as well. “That’s what I do, when I’ve got an article to work on. I shut everyone and everything out. I go to school, avoid everyone I know and I just work,” Jordan says. “Philippe knows this because of how long we’ve been friends, fuck, I didn’t even think about telling him,” he slides down one of the walls, hitting his head off of it once he’s reached the bottom. “What. An. Idiot,” Jordan says, hitting his head harder and harder with each hit.

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Emre says, holding up a hand. “Back up here. What did you mean how you feel?”

 

Jordan’s cheeks redden. “I, uh, I love him too,” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Almost impossible not to fall for that stupid dork,” he rolls his eyes, smiling softly as he lets out a small, wet laugh. He can feel the tears gathering in his eyes again and he wipes at his face furiously. “Sorry,” he mutters.

 

“Don’t be,” Emre says, sitting down next to him. “Tears mean you care.”

 

Jordan rolls his eyes. “Philippe says the exact same thing.”

 

“This really isn’t the time to ask but,” Emre says, “do I have a chance with him?”

 

“Philippe?” Jordan looks over at Emre who nods. “Way more than a chance.”

 

Emre grins, getting up. “Alright. I’m gonna get you Adam and you’re gonna help me with Philippe.”

 

“Ask him on a date, he won’t say no and he won’t care what it is but he’s a romantic, make it a dinner and a movie and he’ll think you’re the shit,” Jordan says, taking the hand that Emre offers him with a snort. “Hell, he already does.”

 

“Adam prefers to stay late on Monday practises, especially when something’s bothering him. Wait till about 5 and the gym should be clear but him,” Emre say with a grin. “Just, uh, be aware he might try and kill you. Like, a 95% chance.”

 

“That he won’t want to?” Jordan asks hopefully.

 

“That you won’t survive him if he wants to kill you.”

 

“Lovely,” Jordan mutters. “I’m in love with a homicidal boxer who could probably knock me out with one punch.”

 

Emre grins at him and pats him on the shoulder. “We all have our flaws.”

 

______________________________

 

Jordan does what Emre suggests, waiting around after school (and telling Philippe what had gone down in the bathroom before both Emre and Philippe disappeared). He waits for the other boxers to leave before sneaking into the gym, just watching Adam practice on a punching bag for a few minutes.

 

He can’t help but watch him and take Adam in. He’s in a sweaty tank and some shorts, hitting the bag with enough force to swing it backwards pretty far.

 

“Are you just going to watch me?” Adam grunts out, punching it particularly hard.

 

“Uh. No. But I’m gonna stay here so I don’t like, die,” Jordan cracks a small smile. “Emre talked to me.”

 

“What did he say,” Adam punches the bag hard enough it breaks off the chain and Jordan’s eyes widen.

 

“Holy shit is that supposed to happen?” He asks, slightly nervous.

 

Adam rolls his eyes, grabbing one that’s sitting on the side lines. “It’s an old chain, it breaks easily.”

 

“Right so um there’s been like, a bit of miscommunication between us,” Jordan says nervously. “I wasn’t avoiding you.”

 

Adam laughs bitterly. “Seemed like it,” he finishes setting up the new bag and resumes punching it. Jordan takes a breath, walking over to it and waiting for a second for Adam to stop punching it, and settling behind it and holding it in place.

 

“Someone’s supposed to do this right?” Jordan says.

 

Adam looks at him blankly for a moment before moving his hands. “Move your left foot back.” Jordan does as he’s told and then Adam resumes punching it. “So, what’s your excuse to why you were avoiding me.”

 

“I said I wasn’t,” Jordan grunts. It’s a lot harder, holding the punch bag in place. Harder than the movies make it look. “I have this- thing, when I’m working on an article. I don’t talk to anyone I know, not at all. I was _‘avoiding’_ Philippe too. I can’t focus on people around me when I need to be working. School is already a huge distraction so I don’t talk to anyone if I’m in the middle of a big project.”

 

Adam stops punching part way through his speech, looking at Jordan. “You’re… Telling the truth?”

 

“You can ask Philippe,” Jordan nods, moving away from the punching bag and shaking his arms a bit. “Shit, you’re fucking strong.”

 

Adam laughs slightly, the laugh that Jordan’s used to. “I’m sorry,” he says, eyes widening in horror. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

 

Jordan shakes his head, walking close to Adam before just throwing himself to Adam, wrapping his arms around Adam’s neck. “It was my fault, I should’ve told you.”

 

Adam shakes his head, tucking it into Jordan’s neck. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions,” he whispers to Jordan’s neck softly, lips brushing skin lightly. He pulls back after a moment, resting his forehead on Jordan’s. “I’m really sorry and I want to make it up to you.”

 

“Kiss me,” Jordan whispers, leaning in just slightly so their lips brush.

 

Adam presses the rest of the way before the last word is fully out of Jordan’s mouth, pushing them together. Jordan tightens his grip around Adam’s neck, bringing their faces closer, like he can’t get enough of Adam (he really can’t) and Adam’s hands slip down to his hips, tightening their grip there (Jordan so hopes there’ll be bruises) and pulling his body closer. Jordan slips a hand into Adam’s hair as he moves his head to the side slightly, opening his mouth. Adam’s tongue darts out as his hands move down a bit and Adam’s bending just slightly-

 

“Fuck you just picked me up,” Jordan laughs, pulling his lips back slightly as Adam lifts his body up and he wraps his legs around Adam’s waist.

 

“I do believe we have a bet to see how long I can hold you against a wall,” Adam smirks, pressing his back to a wall.

 

“Fuck you’re amazing.”

 

______________________________

 

**4 MONTHS LATER**

 

“Hello my lovely Golden Boy,” Jordan laughs as he jumps on Adam’s back. Adam adjusts to the added weight easily, shifting Jordan slightly.

 

“Hello sunshine,” Adam whispers back as their friends make faces. “Ok, Emre, Philippe, you can’t talk.”

 

“Agreeing,” Jordan says. “You two are like, 10 times worse than me and Adam.”

 

“You both make me sick,” James mutters, from in between the two couples.

 

Emre laughs. “Someone getting friendly with his right hand since Amy left to visit family back in Canada?”

  

Jordan laughs again, resting his head on Adam’s shoulder, lips right next to his ear. “Hi,” he whispers again.

 

“Hi,” Adam whispers back as Jordan begins kissing where he can reach on Adam’s face and neck.

 

“Really wouldn’t mind going back to yours,” Jordan mumbles, gently biting on Adam’s earlobe and causing him to moan softly. “Your parents are still gonna be out yeah?”

 

“Uh, mates, Jordan and I are going to head back to my place,” Adam says suddenly, interrupting one of Philippe’s stories (dear god, Emre and James will be trapped for hours).

 

The three lads snicker but Jordan just grins at him. “Yeah, laugh all you want, but at least I’m getting a lovely orgasm provided by my fit boyfriend who could probably have sex with me while holding me up.” He pauses. “Could you?”

 

“We’re not finding out. That sounds painful and straining on my muscles,” Adam says and the others go to hit him (some hitting Jordan too). “Rude,” he mutters, grinning up at Jordan. “See ya!” he says and Jordan waves, letting Adam carry him back to his car.

 

The ride back to Adam’s is short, since the park that they were at with the lads is rather close to it and soon enough, they’re back at the house and up in Adam’s room with Adam pinned against the door and Jordan’s lips on his neck. “Really wouldn’t mind have sex with you while you’re holding me up,” Jordan mumbles, dragging his teeth lightly and causing Adam to moan.

 

“An-another time,” Adam groans as Jordan palms him through his pants. “I’ve got that try-out soon, rem-oh fuck, yeah- remember?”

 

Jordan frowns slightly. “Damn.” His frown turns into a grin a second later. “Best I do all the work, then, so you don’t accidentally strain anything.”

 

Adam looks at him, half (more like 3/4) turned on and half suspicious. “I’m too turned on to deal with your riddles babe, just-”

 

“I’m going to blow you and then finger myself and ride you till I come all over your fucking amazing abs,” Jordan whispers in his ear, grinning as Adam moans.

 

He takes Adam’s hand, dragging him over to the bed before turning around at the last moment, and pushing Adam down first. He quickly pulls off his clothes before moving to get on the bed, moving up Adam’s body until he’s straddling him. Adam’s hands move up to his hips, not holding him there but just sitting there.

 

“Well, I was told I was getting a blow job,” Adam says in a smug voice, settling down into the bed as Jordan smirks.

 

He slips his hands underneath Adam’s shirt, fingers feathering over his abs, then ribs before slipping them back out and pushing the shirt up so it’s rolled all the way up to Adam’s armpits. He obviously understands what Jordan wants and leans forward just enough to shuck the shirt off before lying back down.

 

Jordan moves to kiss Adam, but instead of going for the lips he changes courses last moment, letting the attach themselves to his neck, making sure to leave a few marks as he moves down Adam’s body, stopping again at his abs, letting his tongue run over them, looking up through his lashes at Adam. Adam’s already got his eyes closed, breathing heavy as he bites onto his bottom lip.

 

“Don’t hold back,” Jordan whispers, letting his breath hit Adam’s abs, making him shiver slightly. “Wanna hear you moaning and screaming my name Golden Boy.”

 

“Jordan,” he moans, eyes opening and looking down at him as he smirks.

 

“Good,” Jordan praises him, shuffling down the rest of the way until his lips are hovering over the tent in Adam’s pants.

He mouthes over it, letting his mouth and tongue dampen the pants before he finally undoes them. Adam lifts his hips without needing to be asked and Jordan pulls the pants and boxers down and off in one go, throwing them someone else in the room. He turns his attention back to Adam’s dick, which is already almost fully erect and he licks the tip lightly, tasting the familiar taste of Adam’s precum.

 

Jordan sucks the tip of it into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks before moving up and down the shaft slowly, torturing Adam in the best way possible. It continues like this for a few moments, Jordan sucking and licking on Adam’s dick before Adam’s talking above him (words other than “Jordan”, “fuck, yeah”, and “please”).

 

“Jordan, babe, fuck, I’m gonna-” Jordan pulls off abruptly causing Adam to let out a string of curse words. “I hate you,” he mumbles a few moments later when he’s pulled himself off the edge a bit.

 

“No you don’t,” Jordan mutters, kissing his neck softly, right over one of his marks. “Where’s your lube babe?”

 

“Top drawer,” Adam says back, tilting his head to the side so Jordan has better access. “Should be right near the front from last time.”

 

Jordan leans over him, going to the drawer where he tossed it last time he was in Adam’s bedroom and grabs it and a condom, placing the condom next to Adam’s hip before using some of the lube on Adam’s fingers, grinning at him.

 

“Don’t move them unless I tell you to,” Jordan says, nipping at his throat again and Adam moans softly, nodding. “Just point one up right now babe.” Adam does as he’s told and Jordan moves his hand to it’s just a little high up his body that Adam’s dick and slowly sinks onto it, biting his lip as he watches Adam’s face.

 

“Always so tight,” Adam whispers and Jordan lifts his hips, going up and down.

 

“Only for you babe,” he says. “Add another.” Adam does as he’s told and Jordan moans out loudly, nodding. “Scissor them, open me up.” Adam moves them, scissoring them and moving them, trying to find Jordan’s sweet spot. Jordan keeps riding them, getting fast and fast. “F-Fuck, one more,” he says and Adam adds a third finger and Jordan lets out a breath, keeping up his pace for a few moments before he pulls off of the fingers completely and reaches for the condom.

 

Jordan rips into the packaging easily enough before sliding it onto Adam’s cock and gripping the base so he can slide onto it slowly, letting his body adjust as he moves down. When he reaches the bottom he moans loudly, swivelling his hips slowly but then faster before he’s bouncing up and down, using Adam’s shoulders to brace himself.

 

“Uh, uh, Adam,” he says in a breathy voice as Adam beings to thrust up, meeting him half way, the only sounds in the room being their moans and heavy breathing. Adam lets his hands move up Jordan’s side, feathering softly till he gets to his nipples, first letting his fingers feather before he rolls the nubs of them with his finger pads and Jordan lets out a particularly loud moan, coming over Adam. It takes Adam another thrust before he’s coming inside the condom and Jordan collapse on him.

 

“Sunshine…” Adam mumbles a couple moments.

 

“Sleeping.” Jordan mutters back.

 

Adam laughs softly. “I’ve still got my dick in you and there’s cum that you’re lying in and is hardening on my abs.”

 

Jordan mumbles something incoherently before slowly pulling himself off of Adam’s dick, both wincing at the sensitivity but then collapse between Adam and the wall.

 

“You’re on clean up duty,” he mumbles.

 

Adam rolls his eyes fondly, getting out of the bed. “You’re always so lazy after sex.” He can’t help but laugh as he walks over to the bathroom and gets a warm washcloth, washing himself off before coming back into the bedroom to go wash Jordan off.

 

“I just did all the work, fuck you asshole,” Jordan mutters, throwing him the middle finger.

 

“Love you too,” Adam says on instinct and his eyes widen.

 

Jordan opens an eye, looking at him. “You know I knew right?”

 

“You… knew?” Adam says as he wipes Jordan does gently.

 

Jordan nods. “Course I did. Emre told me the day we got together.”

 

“Emre told you,” Adam says.

 

Jordan nods again. “I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you that part.”

 

“Probably,” Adam says, throwing the washcloth into the dirty clothes pile before climbing into bed. Jordan automatically wraps himself around him, putting his head on Adam’s chest. “I do love you J. A lot.”

 

“Love you more than anything Golden Boy,” Jordan whispers back, leaning up to kiss him lovingly. He smiles softly when he pulls away, pecking him once more before putting his head back.

 

“My Golden Boy.”


End file.
